


Remember Me

by AlulaSpeaks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s13e11 Breakdown, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 04:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlulaSpeaks/pseuds/AlulaSpeaks
Summary: Sam doesn't know why they're at a random coffee shop in Indiana, but Dean sure seems to. It might have something to do with the young woman calling Sam's name and waiving from across the street.In which Dean finds a different way to get through to Sam.





	Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> After that episode, I think we all need Sam to have something nice. You can find this fic on [Tumblr](https://alulaspeaks.tumblr.com/post/170272926392/13x11-coda).

[Read on AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13516215/)

…

Sam blinks at the cursive script winding across the cafe’s sign, then turns to blink at his brother.

“What are we doing here?”

“I told you, we’ve got some business to take care of,” Dean says and cranes his neck looking first one way, then the other down the sunny sidewalk.

“We drove ten hours to Indiana for ‘business’ at The Roasted Bean.” Sam says, and swipes a hand over his aching eyes.

“It’s important,” Dean says and clams up, lips pursed in a way that means he’s done talking for now, and he goes back to scanning the busy street.

Sam swallows down his frustration, too tired to get in a fight about it. He’d rather be anywhere than here, in the warm sun as people laugh and chat as they walk down the street. He should never have let Dean drag him out of the bunker for anything less than a hunt. Sam sighs and leans back against the wall, staring down at his scuffed and worn boots. His left heel is loose around the edges, like Sam could walk out of the sole any minute.

“Sam!” a voice calls from down the street and Sam’s head snaps up.

A young woman in a white t-shirt and long gray cardigan waves at them from across the street, her long, brown hair glinting auburn as she joins the crowd waiting at the crosswalk. There is something familiar about the set of her mouth, but she’s too far away to see well.

Dean raises a hand in greeting and rocks back on his heels, relaxing with a sigh. Whoever she is, she’s exactly who Dean’s been looking for. Sam tries to catch his eye, but Dean shrugs and keeps watching as the light changes and she crosses.

It isn’t until she’s standing in front of him, big blue eyes shining and lips curled in a half-unsure, half-sardonic smile that Sam recognizes her. Last time he saw her, she was in hospital whites, running from his room after they burned her bracelet and laid her brother to rest.

“Remember me?”

“Oh wow, Marin,” Sam says, pushing off the wall. His momentary wonder is overcome by the sudden, horrible thought that maybe they are here for a hunt, something coiling tight in his chest. “Is something wrong, are you ok?”

“Other than having a lab due on Friday and two papers next week, I’m peachy,” she says rolling her eyes.

Sam’s surprised by his own laugh, small and real, and that thing in his chest loosens.

“It’s been a long time,” he says.

“Six years, about,” Marin says, “and it turns out you really are as tall as I remember. I thought you were supposed to exaggerate your heroes in your memory or something. C’mon, let’s get a coffee. I need my fix.”

Marin turns on her heel and pulls open the cafe door, leaving Sam gaping behind her. He looks to Dean for some kind of explanation, but Dean flashes him a nervous smile and nods toward the open door.

“Go ahead, I’ll be in in a minute,” Dean says.

Marin’s on the other side of the door waiting with her eyebrow raised. Sam drifts in after her, still feeling spun about as they stand in line waiting to place their orders. Sam gets a chai and Marin gets something huge with a triple shot of espresso and they make their way to a small table tucked in the back, next to the window looking out over the less busy side street.

Sam sits in the chair with it’s back to the wall and tries not to fidget like a nervous teenager at their first job interview. Marin sits across from him and digs through her bag. She pulls out a candy bar and thunks it on the table in front of Sam.

“Got you this,” she says with a smirk. “Paid for it this time and everything.”

Sam laughs, louder than he means to and Marin’s smirk turns into a full smile.

“Guess we better share it,” he says. He breaks it up into smaller pieces, then pulls the wrapper open and sets it on the table between them.

“So, college.” Sam says, nodding at the logo on her t-shirt. “Let me guess. Psychology?”

“God, no,” Marin laughs. “Biology. Well, Microbiology. Yay, college.”

Marin pumps a sardonic fist in the air, and then she’s off, telling Sam about the year she spent finding her feet, and then finally getting accepted into college and how she was scared she’d crack up under pressure, but she’s learned to love it. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to her and Sam finds himself soaking up every word she says as they slowly work through the chocolate bar.

Her favorite places on campus are the library and an old oak tree in the quad. She smiles a lot, but she still has the same sharp sense of humor. And she’s alive. She’s so alive. At some point, Dean comes in, orders a coffee, and settles in at a table near the front to read the paper. He flicks occasional glances their way, but he gives them their privacy. When the conversation finally lapses, Sam twists his cup in his hands and asks the one thing he really wants to know.

“Are you happy?”

Marin sits back in her chair, tucks her hair behind her ear. “Not always. I still miss my brother all the time, and it sucks that I can’t just forget the things he said to me.”

“That wasn’t-” Sam starts, but Marin cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“I know, it wasn’t him. Not really, not all the way. I talk to a counselor once a week, and it helps. I can’t tell her what really happened, but the guilt and stuff, that’s the same.” She looks up, catches Sam’s eyes, “But yeah, Sam, for the most part I’m happy.”

Sam smiles and Marin smiles back. She watches him for a long moment and her face turns serious.

“Dean said things are bad right now. I’m sorry that this stuff keeps happening to you.”

Sam struggles to find the right thing to say, but Marin’s phone beeps and she turns it over to glance at the screen.

“Shit, I’ve got to get to class.”

“Right, of course,” Sam says, standing up as she shoulders her bag.

Marin stuffs her phone in her pocket and looks up at Sam. “I think things are going to get better for you, Sam Winchester, I really do,” she says and pulls Sam down into a hug. Sam wraps his arms around her, feels her ribs expand with breath and marvels at her being here.

“I know I said it once before, but everything happened so fast afterwards, and I feel like maybe you need to hear it again. What you did for me,” Marin says and her voice cracks in the middle. She pulls back to look Sam in the eye. “You believed in me when everyone else told me I was crazy. You saved my life, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam can’t find words, his own throat closed up tight but he nods and smiles as best as he can.

“Take care of yourself,” Marin says and heads for the door.

“You, too,” Sam croaks, but he doesn’t think she hears it. Doesn’t think she needs to.

When she passes Dean’s table he stands, says something to her and she squeezes his elbow, says something back and slips out of the cafe.

Sam watches her through the glass storefront as she hustles down the street. She looks back once at the corner, and Sam doesn’t think she can see him through the glare on the windows but she smiles anyway.

He stares after her for long minutes, long after she disappears in the crowd, until Dean steps into his line of sight. He sets a to-go cup in front of Sam that smells like lemon and honey and slides into Marin’s vacant chair.

Dean takes the folded paper from under his arm and flicks it open so it crackles in the air. Sam waits for him to ask about Marin, waits for him to try and make Sam talk, but he doesn’t. He just reads. And all Sam can think about is that Dean remembered Marin, tracked her down, set this up, all to give Sam thirty minutes with her while Dean waited patiently in a corner.

“Dean, I…” Sam wants to ask why, wants to say thanks, wants to say this doesn’t change anything but none of it’s true and all of it is and he’s overwhelmed. In the end he can’t say any of it.

Dean sets the paper down, and the look in his eye is fierce and uncompromising.

“What you did for that girl, Sam.” Dean shakes his head, face softening. “You were so far gone, man. You were slipping away, clinging to life by your fingernails and I couldn’t - “ Dean cuts himself off. “You still saved her. No one else could have done what you did. No one. It was a goddamn miracle.”

Sam shakes his head, opens his mouth to protest, but Dean holds up a hand.

“What we do, it’s hard, it costs us a lot - sometimes everything - but it matters. What you do matters. Maybe you can’t remember that right now, but I do and so does she. I know things are as bad as they’ve been, but you don’t gotta pull off a miracle alone this time, ok? This time I can see the future with Mom in it, and Jack, and I swear I’ll get us there, and all you gotta do is stick with me. So just stick it out with me, Sam.”

Dean’s looking at him. Looking at him like he did in that church, like Sam looked at Dean after the first trial, like he’s begging Sam to see, to come back to him and it’s too much. Sam’s heart is beating against his ribs, his breath gone shallow and he can’t hold Dean’s gaze. He tilts his head back, stares at the popcorn ceiling and blinks furiously against the wet sting behind his eyes.

He so scared that he isn’t that person anymore, that he can’t take the hits he used to and keep going. Put Marin in front of him again, right now, and Sam doesn’t know if he could save her. He’s tired. He’s so tired, and so old, and he doesn’t know if he can ever be that Sam again. But then he thinks of Dean hustling him into the car at midnight, driving straight through to Indiana all so Sam could sit here, in this cafe, and see that he’s done one damn thing right, and he thinks of Marin’s smile as she disappears down a sun-drenched street. Maybe, maybe if he weren’t alone. Maybe if Dean were with him, he could be that Sam again. Not now, but maybe soon.

When Sam’s got his breathing under control he looks down and Dean’s back to reading his paper. Sam clears his throat and takes a sip of the tea Dean brought him. He’s still tired, he’s still afraid, but he can stick it out for a while longer. He can at least do that.

“Want the funnies?” Dean asks, pushing a folded section of the paper across the table to Sam. Under the table, his feet slide forward, sandwich Sam’s left boot between his own and squeeze, solid and grounding.

“Not right now,” Sam says, and turns his face into the late morning sun, closing his eyes and letting the light paint his eyelids sunrise orange. “Maybe in a little while.”

Maybe soon.


End file.
